


Day 2 — Socks and Sweaters

by orphan_account



Series: PruHun Week 2015 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cold War, F/M, Historical Hetalia, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[This chapter was written by me.]</p>
<p>UndeadAlbinoTrash: In this one, I really didn't know what to write. So here we have a poor excuse of an angsty chapter orz. I'm a huge fan of History and the Cold War, and there have been some changes from the original version (in Portuguese). Translating is hard.</p>
<p>FlamingHelmet: We are both into History, actually. I'm a teacher myself, so there was no way we couldn't have got into any historical moment.</p>
<p>We hope you've enjoyed it and we'll later bring more! See ya soon!</p></blockquote>





	Day 2 — Socks and Sweaters

_"Love only exists in the heat of eminence, touch, and contact. The coldness of the rest although reminds a little of love is, actually, nonsense." — Gabito Nunes_

* * *

 When I was a brat, I loved the cold. Simply loved to go out in the winter mornings and play by myself in the snow. Maybe because I was raised somewhere around the Baltic Sea, or because the sun would easily burn my skin. Whatever it was, cold had never been an enemy of mine.

At least, not the climatic cold or the one that came with the falling snow. The cold of the soul haunted me at night. My biggest fears would get out from their caves and terrorize me until I fall asleep. Much more than nightmares, those fears were part of me. Everyone has their monsters; some more than others.

I was stubborn too. Wanted to do everything by myself to show people that I was strong, that I wasn't afraid of anything… Until today I am somewhat like that, but it would be so much better if I knew how heavy the burden one carries alone would be.

In all my long existence, I never doubted the perpetuation of my nation. Shit, I was one of the biggest military powers that had ever walked on this planet. Who would be brave enough to challenge me in my golden years? But then again, it looked like golden years didn't last forever. I learned it when it was already too late. The world wasn't my backyard anymore, and the sword I carried would no longer cut through anything.

And so, I fell like Lucifer fell from the Heavens: Not as an angel, not as a human. But Hell was much colder than I thought, much darker than I imagined. Prussia died in 1947.

Inside his body, Gilbert woke up. He looked around and saw the USSR. Some faces were familiar to him: Ivan, Feliks, Toris, Eduard, Raivis, Natalya, Yekaterina. And, finally, Elizaveta. Or rather…

_Erzsébet_.

I had been so distant from you that I believed I had no longer authorization to look in your eyes again. I didn't know exactly what I had done wrong, but Prussia's ghost mocked me every time I felt unsure of talking to you. I was afraid of you and didn't know.

Even though I deserved that you explained everything in the worst way ever, yet you didn't do it. When I woke up lost, defeated, you only smiled and left my room in the great Soviet household. It took me a long time to finally get the situation. Ivan told me the consequences of the war, the politic dynamic of the new bipolar order, the East and the West, the walls. He just didn't tell me what I wanted to know: Who was I? Where did the line between Prussia and Gilbert go? The Slav gave me a gentle tap on my shoulder and bid farewell, saying that I should head to East Germany.

The empty shell named Gilbert packed his few belongings up and left. It was a small house in Berlin, divided and shredded into four sectors. The cold slowly invaded my life, freezing my eyes in the same place for too long and only allowing me to look fixedly at the walls. The cold froze my legs and forbid me from roaming away from home. The cold froze my soul, making me unable of feeling anything but the cold itself. Even so, a spark was just enough to get me up from my bed and drag my feet to the door. The bell was ringing.

When I opened the door, your strangely shy smile asked me if you could come in. Shyness never was something that you would feel. And for the first time in so long, I felt something. Okay, it could have been irritation because of the way you looked happy, as if nothing serious was going on, but it certainly was good to feel something. And maybe, by the way I reacted, also ignoring any other problem, ignoring the cold, you might have felt that old intimacy we shared before the distance and the silence.

You let your coat rest on the couch and made a horrible joke. But I laughed. And you also laughed. I coughed up quite loudly and you worried about it, putting me to sit.

"Wait here," and you went off in my house, searching for my blanket while I thought of something to say, any word of apologize for something I was still trying to understand, as if I was asking forgiveness for a sin I had not committed. Until then, you were already coming back with the blanket and was sitting to my side, asking about news.

"Nothing is happening," I lied. I knew well that you could still read me like an open book. Although what I didn't know was that my eyes begged so hard for a hug, but thanks for giving it. Thank you for telling me – in a strong embrace – that I wasn't well, and that I didn't need to face it all alone. Until today, I feel your hand caress my hair, calming me down. All that cold, all that agony seemed to melt in the moment.

There was no Cold War, there was no fear, and there was no doubt. Only that warm feeling bubbling inside my weak chest.

"I was thinking of a reason to come visit you, but I would feel really stupid telling you that I only wanted to see you. So I bought you these." I faked being weaker than I really was just so she would put the sweater and the socks that she bought on me. "If you get sick again, I swear…"

We had never talked about what we tried to hide in all of those jokes, the occasional flirting and physical contacts like these, but – deep inside – we already knew.

"Even if I get lovesick?"

**Author's Note:**

> [This chapter was written by me.]
> 
> UndeadAlbinoTrash: In this one, I really didn't know what to write. So here we have a poor excuse of an angsty chapter orz. I'm a huge fan of History and the Cold War, and there have been some changes from the original version (in Portuguese). Translating is hard.
> 
> FlamingHelmet: We are both into History, actually. I'm a teacher myself, so there was no way we couldn't have got into any historical moment.
> 
> We hope you've enjoyed it and we'll later bring more! See ya soon!


End file.
